Página 42 A shepherd next, you haunt the plain, And warble sorth your oaten straini A lover
now, with all the grace Os that sweet passion in your sace : Then, calm'd to
sriendship, you assume The gentle-looking Hartsord's bloom, As, with her
Musidora, ...

Página 50 ... and by gries opprest, The weary soul sighs sor its promis'd rest, And like the
hireling, working sor his pay, Welcomes the evening os a toilsome day: Is this be
true, what greater proos can rise That virtue blooms but in her native skies ?

Página 72 The circling planets' constant rounds The wintry wastes repair : And still, srom
temporary death, Renew the Verdant year, But ha ! when once our transient bloom, The spring os lise, is o'er, That rosy season takes its flight, And must
return no ...

Pasajes populares

Página 150 - Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the Poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave Await alike th' inevitable hour : — The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Página 183 - Come, and trip it as you go, On the light fantastic toe ; And in thy right hand lead with thee The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty; And if I give thee honour due, Mirth, admit me of thy crew, To live with her and live with thee, In unreproved pleasures free...

Página 193 - And when the Sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown that Sylvan loves Of Pine, or monumental Oak, Where the rude Axe with heaved stroke, Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.

Página 149 - The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.

Página 185 - Sometimes with secure delight The upland hamlets will invite, When the merry bells ring round, And the jocund rebecks sound To many a youth and many a maid, Dancing in the chequer'd shade; And young and old come forth to play On.